


Drabbles

by Vespertillion



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vespertillion/pseuds/Vespertillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertholt and Reiner think about life and stuff<br/>Definitely not spoiler free!!!!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add more drabbles as chapters to this as they come.

Bertholt didn't trust himself anymore, not since the Wall. He was never one for talking about how he felt and that quality of taciturnity had only increased. It was through a sort of desperation that Reiner learned to rely more of what his friend was not saying.  
Reiner knew Bertholt didn't trust himself, partly because he felt the same way and partly because he could feel it in the steadiness of Bertholt's breathing as they leaned against the wall of the barracks and against each other. Training had left them exhausted, yes, but the underlying motive was the desire for the comfort of physical contact that wasn't fighting or monstrous flesh against cold walls.  
They did not trust themselves, but they trusted each other.  
It was easy to pretend that life would continue in the same state, with the warmth of sunlight and each other; that there was still some chance that if they pretended hard enough, everything would disappear and they could be normal soldiers. They pretended their bodies weren't made for destruction and that they didn't have to be warriors. Despite all of this, the truth was always present at the backs of their minds, constantly but quietly nagging. It was hard to forget.  
Reiner was scared. Bertholt knew this partly because he felt the same way and partly because he could feel it in the tenseness of Reiner's muscles. They were still fresh in the trainees division, strong but not strong enough to fully endure a day's worth of exercise.  
It would get easier as they went along, Reiner had said once, and they shouldn't worry about things too much for the time being. It was more of a self-assurance than an instruction to Bertholt, who took it as one nonetheless.  
They sat together, leaning in the sunlight. It was good. Life would be easier as it went along, but it would get harder first. The future was large and overwhelming and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.  
They mused on the irony of it sometimes in the hours of the night, when the expanse of stars barely visible through a sliver in the window of the barracks seemed to encourage thoughts as deep and dark as the infinity of space itself. Sometimes they whispered it to each other and sometimes they felt it as they lay side by side.  
The dinner bell rang and they rose; Reiner first, followed by Bertholt, who paused for a moment.  
"It's dinner time," said one, and the other one replied, simply saying "Yeah."  
It was easier to pretend together.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner's conflicting morality and warped sense of reality along with overwhelming guilt lead to a break-down, and Berthold steps in to offer words of comfort. Set sometime shortly after the Female Titan arc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh I spent an embarrassingly long time reading Reiner's wiki page because I wanted to clarify some aspects of the manga... it made me really sad to read about his disillusionment with reality like wow Reiner deserves so much better he breaks my heart 3  
> I probably spelled Berthold differently in the previous chapter? There are a billion different ways to spell his name but this is the one I'm settling on.

Everything about Reiner was solid and chiseled, but, as any rock under the pressure of outside forces was apt to do, he had began to fissure and wear away.   
Berthold had noticed these fissures some time before Reiner had; Berthold was more introspective, more likely to acknowledge cracks instead of pushing them down.   
And so, when Reiner suddenly excused himself from lunch one day, trembling slightly, Berthold became strikingly aware of the first major crack in his friend's foundation.   
Reiner had holed himself up in some janitorial closet in the barracks. His large frame fit uncomfortably in the confined space, and Berthold, all limbs and lank, barely fit in the remaining space as he squeezed into the closet and shut the door.   
They were instantly cloaked in darkness and with it, a sense of security that allowed Reiner to exhale shakily. The only indications of his tears were his trembling frame and the occasional restricted sob. Berthold put his arm around his friend. He felt awkward--not due to the gesture itself, but because his friend who was supposed to be strong, who was supposed to be a warrior, a rock, was crumbling in his arms. It was the most raw display of emotion Berthold had seen from Reiner, and it was painful.   
They sat there, Reiner's small, crying noises breaking the silence. Berthold could feel him swallow, and then, choking out the words--  
"Berthold, I don't even know what's _real_ anymore."  
Berthold tensed; he had a vague notion that Reiner was smiling in a pained way.   
"Real?"  
Reiner nodded. The words in his throat had been replaced by an awful lump. Neither of them were really sure on what to do, and the space was filled with silence again.   
"Your name is Reiner Braun," whispered Berthold after a few moments, unsure of whether what he was saying actually helped. "I'm Berthold Fubar. We're friends from childhood."  
Reiner nodded again.   
"We came here from our homeland. We'll go back there, but first... We, um. We have to complete our mission. I'm the Colossal Titan, and you are the Armored Titan--"  
It was there that Reiner broke down again, somewhat aggressively, and all Berthold could really do was tighten his arm around Reiner and listen to his jagged breathing.   
"So that part's true." His voice had that pained-smile quality again. "That part's true."  
"Yeah."  
"Then the rest of it--training with them, being friends, the promises that we'd all grow old together and drink together--?"  
"No, that's true!" interjected Berthold quickly. "That's true too! Those things were true when they were said. Even if we can't be the soldiers everyone thinks we are, we can still be their friends!"  
"How can we though?" he snapped, and then, lowering his voice, "How can we face them again? Everyone who died did so because of us, Bert. I can't look anyone in the eyes knowing that."  
They were quiet for a long time.   
"You're the only other person who gets it," said Reiner.   
"What about Annie?"  
"Always going back to Annie, huh?" He managed a strained laugh. "She's in the Military Police now. It's not like she ever talked to us anyway."  
There was a brief pause before Berthold spoke.   
"Reiner... I'm here for you always, okay? When you need help, or can't remember reality, I'll be there. I'll always be by your side until we accomplish our mission and return home. Please understand that I mean it fully--you have my word."  
His words seemed to renew Reiner's spirits. "Right," he said, tones of confidence beginning to enter his voice again. "It was stupid of me to forget why we're here. We'll do this and we'll go home together. We can't be soldiers, but we can be warriors."  
"Yes," agreed Berthold. "We can be warriors."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have lots of sad feelings about these boys.   
> Set sometime before everything becomes awful.

It was a well-known fact that Reiner Braun was a heavy sleeper who could withstand incredible amounts of facial vandalism and muffled laughter. It was also well-known that Berthold was, on most nights, one of the lightest sleepers in the barracks. It didn't help that his feet rested on the frame of the bunk when he was stretched out or that the moon shone through the window and into his eyes when it was full or that it was really very stuffy on the top bunk or that Jean snored very loudly or that thoughts ran through his head when all he wanted was to shut them up and forget (but not in the way Reiner forgot). His greatest nighttime fear was that the thoughts in his sleeping head would drift out of his mouth, but what difference would it make, really? Passable as a bad dream, if anything, and if heard over the rambunctious snoring.

He mostly depended on the deep, steady breathing of Reiner to lull him into sleep. Sometimes the breath came heavier, sharper and with furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw, and it was those times that Bert would stir from whatever level of sleep he was at and press his forehead up against Reiner's and whisper reassurances until the pained expression went away. 

Tonight was one such night. The breathing came in jagged movements; Reiner was on his side, facing away from Berthold, and his shoulders shook. 

Berthold scooted over closer to Reiner, putting a slender hand on his shoulder and then, when that didn't soothe the nightmares, pressing himself up against Reiner and sliding his arm under the other's. 

He rested his nose on Reiner's head, inhaling deeply and trying to find something poetic in the scent. He would have liked to pretend that Reiner's hair smelled of the crispness of a waterfall or of the trees in their homeland (both things were strong, like Reiner), but mostly his hair just smelled like hair and sweat. It was not as romantic as he had hoped it to be; maybe someday they would smell of lavender instead of death, but not today. Even though the smell of death wasn't physically present, Bert knew it was there, laced delicately over them like a shawl sometimes, other times crawling under their skin like a parasite waiting to break forth (and those were the times that they were also crawling under the skin of destruction like the parasites everyone unknowingly swore they were). 

It was Berthold who trembled now. He found solace in Reiner's breathing patterns, which had returned to normal. Gently, he burrowed his head into Reiner's hair just a little more. It was a safe place despite hesitation in applying the idea of safety to themselves. Yes, Berthold rarely hesitated in hesitating, but he allowed himself to do so now. If he closed his eyes and tried his best to block out the flashbacks (walls and hands and legs and steam and screaming and screaming and screaming) he could feel safe, just for tonight, but his safeness would vanish with the stars... It was all he could do to take it one day at a time, after all; and who could tell when the day would come when they would have to make a safe space in trees so far away from angry blades and rage-filled eyes? The day would come sooner or later, but until then Berthold took comfort in the solidness of Reiner and the stillness of a bloodless night, knowing that the future held a certain lack of both.


End file.
